Living Dead Girl
by datsonyat
Summary: If you asked Saki, she would tell you she could handle dying; after all, she'd done it. Hell, she could even handle being reborn into a previously fictional—now factual—universe. What she couldn't handle, however, was her childhood "friend" repeatedly trying to stab her to death. "Why won't you just stay DEAD?" Without success. [SI/OC Self-Insert, AU.]
1. the two of us

**A/N:** Firstly, heed the M rating, seriously. Secondly, this fic is purely for fun and can probably be considered a quick-fic, so don't expect strict adherence to canon or gigantic chapters. The length will vary as I write what feels best. Humour is a tag, but it is black/dark humour. If any of this bothers you, peace out.

Huge, massive thanks to **jiemae** , **Enbi** , and **nora9gina**! They are the best friends and writing peers I could ever ask for and keep me going when I think I'm done. You can thank them for all of my current and future writing.

 **March 26th edit:** I've had an epiphany on how I want to write this story, and for now I'm removing the non-chronological tag. Consider this chapter a prologue of sorts. Chapters like this will probably be interspersed throughout the story, but I've realized I'd like to write it in a more linear, slow but sure descent into madness, with present time saying hello every once in a while.

 **Beta:** jiemae, Enbi, and nora9gina all lent a hand in the editing and polishing up of this chapter.

 **Inspired by:** White Hair, Red Eyes, and a Pack of Lies by Ever-changing Creation

* * *

 **Living Dead Girl**

 **the two of us**

* * *

The night sky is clear, devoid of clouds and unmarred by city lights, and shimmering with cold, dead stars, strewn across the heavens as far as the eye can see. The waning moon hangs between them, twin points as sharp as the stakes nailing her hands to the blood-slicked ground.

It's quite beautiful, Saki thinks, even as her vision further darkens at the edges and pain oozes from her body like her life. She's lost count of the amount of wounds carved into her, though each new one wrenches what breath is left from her lungs.

Which is most certainly odd, she feels. She should be used to it, shouldn't she?

Hidan's shrill, maniacal laughter pierces the tranquility, carried on a cool breeze and booming around them. She can almost feel the chakra thrumming under his skin, pitch black like the void and ivory white like polished bone.

Her clothes and flesh are torn from the curved blades of his scythe; an undoing of her own making if she's honest with herself. How sloppy. She should know his movements as well as her own by now.

They've been doing the same dance for years, after all.

Saki feels her heart thud painfully, squeezing tightly in her chest; a reminder to hold on just a little longer (though why should she if she's just going to come back anyway?). But she really can't, not like this, not with all of his spears sticking out of her like some sacrificial lamb.

Except that's exactly what she is—what he tries to make her every time—and she knows it as Hidan looms over her from inside his circle, a crazed grin splitting his chakra-darkened, demonic face and blood pouring from every new hole he's given himself to give to her.

" _So_? How is it? How is it _this_ time?" he asks the way a lover might ask, voice full of delight and pride, however it's coloured with bloodlust and she can hear the twang of anger. _Are you going to fucking die this time, you bitch?_ Her existence is perhaps his greatest frustration.

 _Well, Hidan,_ Saki wants to say, _it blows this time, and has sucked every time,_ but he just doesn't get it.

A normal man might consider giving her flowers or something equally as trite, but no, Hidan _has_ to be… _different_. Saki isn't really sure if she appreciates his unique brand of affection—if it can really be called that. She's not nearly naive or foolish enough to believe he loves her; she isn't sure if he can even love in the conventional sense anymore. Yet he still seeks her out often enough that she sometimes wonders what he'll do if he actually kills her.

 _Won't Jashin-sama be proud of you if you finally manage it?_ she thinks as her body begins to succumb at last, the thought tinged with defiance and a touch of amused sarcasm.

She sighs inwardly as her heart slows more and more—and Hidan's got a sixth sense for this sort of thing, so he wastes no time in preparing his finisher. Yes, he may be an insane psychopath, but he's _her_ insane psychopath—which says all sorts of terrible things about herself, but she doesn't like to dwell on those.

Idly, Saki watches the silver-haired man raise his spear triumphantly, pointing the blood-coated tip to his chest. Instinctively, she tries to say his name, as if that might stop him the same way it once did when they were children, but only thick, wet noises and a gush of blood comes pouring out.

He eyes her and licks his lips, grin becoming more feral, stretching just that much wider. "Together, let's..." Hidan says reverently, and _honestly_ , only he can make _murder_ sound like _sex_.

She already knows his words. _Let's experience the pain of your death together._

In one quicksilver movement—when combined with his dramatics, his speed can still surprise her—Hidan plunges the spear into his chest and her own explodes in a supernova of pain for one brilliant moment— _scream,_ she wants to _SCREAM_ —and then—

Nothing. It's black.

(Maybe it will stay black this time.)

* * *

 **永**

* * *

Saki has always called Hidan a passionate person, and while he agrees—but doesn't really care for her constant analyses of him; she can fuck right off with that—he thinks it's total bullshit. It's just her way of avoiding the truth: does she love him or does she hate him?

He thinks with no small amount of derision that she must be insane for holding onto any sort of _love_ —fuck, it makes him want to _puke_ —she has for him. She disgusts him. Hidan wants to kill her, _needs_ to kill her so badly. She's a filthy abomination, her very life contrary to Jashinism's every tenet.

Why, _why_ does she keep coming _back_? It makes him gnash his teeth in rage. How many times will she force him to pray for forgiveness?

Hidan _knows_ he _hates_ Saki with every fibre of his being, even if the Hidan from Before didn't, but he hates hates **HATES** thinking of that. His life had been so worthless, so _aimless_ before Jashin-sama. He has a purpose now, one he will fervently honour and believe in until it takes him to the darkness at the end of all things, where only he will be left among the fire and the ashes and the bones of long dead corpses.

Except for her, and that rattles him to the core—she could be standing beside him as the planet dies and crumbles into dust. What kind of judgement will Jashin-sama render at that time, with his ultimate failure standing by his side?

Hidan hates her. (Hidan loves killing her. It's his perverse, not so well kept secret.)

Maybe Saki can't let go of the Hidan from Before. He hates that she can't understand neither him nor what he believes in.

Beneath his feet, the bloody holy symbol burns with power, fueling their twisted bond. If only she could understand the mind-blowing feeling of pure ecstasy that rushes through his veins as he completes a ritual—that pushes him _that_ much closer to Jashin-sama. If she could feel that, maybe she would repent, and maybe Hidan could forgive her.

Another undying person who would kill in Jashin-sama's name… It makes his skin break out in goosebumps. It would be _so good_.

But she won't say yes.

Her inability to decide really pisses Hidan off, and he drives his spear through his gut, strategically avoiding anything (too) lethal. No, he wants to draw this out as long as he can. The pained noise that leaves her mouth makes him cackle in glee. He gives the spear a particularly violent twist, revelling in the sharp, burning pain that it brings them both, so intense that it spirals into pleasure for him.

Yes, Hidan loves killing her. He's killed her so many times he's forgotten the number, and still he loves it. He's not sure if he should be disgusted with himself—all on Jashin-sama's behalf, naturally.

The way Saki gazes up at him from her crucified position, splayed across the ground like a broken doll, both pleases him and makes him angry. Of course Hidan can see her utter agony, and it's _perfect_ , make no mistake, but he can also see her apathy. _Fucking bitch_ (but she's _his_ bitch) _._ It's never boring for him (it shouldn't be boring for her).

Her deep red—if he's honest, he's always been fascinated that they're the colour of life and death—once bright eyes are fading into dull, shallow pools of nothingness, and it sends shivers down his spine.

He leans down and crouches over her, glaring into those dying eyes. "Do me a favour and stay dead this time," Hidan hisses roughly, pulling the spear from himself with a wet, sucking sound. The bloody, gaping hole that's left behind hardly fazes him.

Saki tries to say his name. Instead, blood burbles up from between her stained lips—blood spills from his in tandem—flowing down her cheeks and chin in crimson rivers. Her ugly hair that can never decide if it wants to be pink or red is dyed with blood. It looks so much better than that hideous _cerise_ , as she likes to call it. (Flowery and stupid.)

She's a lone blossom drowning in blood. It's all very poetic.

Hidan snorts. As if he gives a shit. He stands, sensing that the end is near as she coughs and gasps for breaths that are becoming shorter and shorter. Still, she dares to look at him with those cool, judgemental eyes.

Saki will hardly be able to regard him with such a look for much longer. Hidan grins widely, heaving with mad laughter at the thought. He raises the spear, slowly, deliberately, so she can see every movement.

"The two of us, together," Hidan breathes, unable and uncaring to find the words as all of the pain and pleasure and life and death surging through him reaches a glorious peak. "Let's…"

And then he brings the spear down.

The world stops in this moment as everything collapses in on itself and explodes in a big bang of chakra across all of his lit, screaming nerve endings, better than any orgasm he's ever had. In these moments, it's almost as if he can feel Jashin-sama _right there_.

Then, Saki's dead and it ends.

Hidan sighs and pulls the spear from his chest, head falling back to stare at the night sky. Chakra disperses from his skin and he appears human again, visage of a reaper gone until another kill. _Please be fucking dead forever,_ he prays in his head, suddenly nervous and irritated as he always is whenever he kills Saki. Damnit, she ruins even _this_.

Stepping out of the circle that's gone dormant under him, Hidan retracts his weapon and edges closer to Saki's corpse— _please please PLEASE_ —on his knees. First he reaches out to feel for a pulse against her neck. There's never a time where there is one, but he _has_ to check.

No pulse.

His hand goes to her face, searching for any traces of breathing.

Nothing.

Hidan's heart thumps wildly in his chest, spurts of blood arcing out from his self-made hole. Holy shit, is she seriously dead? Is it finally over?

(And why does that thought unnerve him?)

Finally, _finally_ has he given his god the ultimate sacrifice?

With bated breath, Hidan leans down and examines her ghostly white face with trepidation.

Saki's ruby red eyes snap open, sending Hidan flying backwards, screeching unholy hell. There's a throaty cough and a brief choking sound before he watches her tongue dart out to lick her blood-smeared lips.

It's all silent, save for the sound of her resumed breathing. Hidan watches her with narrowed eyes full of contempt, enraged that every movement of her chest is a sin against Jashin-sama.

"Are you quite done?" she deadpans with a raised brow, straining uselessly against the stakes in her hands.

" _Fuck_!"

* * *

 **Fic recommendation:** Crimson Runner by **Ever-changing Creation** , dancer by **jiemae** , and Kingdom Come by **Enbi**. While not a Naruto fic, if you're into the HP fandom, Spindle by **nora9gina** is pretty fantastic.


	2. a butterfly meets a typhoon

**A/N:** Whoa, thank you for all the support, my dear readers! I didn't expect to get more than maybe a handful this time around. Do read until the end before you forsake me. B)

 **Beta:** Enbi helped with the composition of the chapter and jiemae did the traditional beta work. Thank these lovely ladies for their glorious aid for I would be nothing without them, especially jiemae who went through the extra trouble of beta'ing this until it sparkled like a diamond.

* * *

 **Living Dead Girl**

 **a butterfly meets a typhoon**

* * *

Shinomiya Saki has not one, but _three_ great secrets. For unfathomable reasons both nebulous and bizarre, and perhaps even unknown—although there are theories—she simply cannot stay dead. That isn't to say she can't die, no—she very much can. The unfortunate part is that she keeps coming back.

This makes her something of an immortal, and she detests it.

Why, might one ask?

You see, Saki would like to stay dead. Again: why? Why does one wish to give up such an amazing gift? The things an immortal could achieve are boundless and timeless, are they not? Since she is endless, can she not set the world upon the path to eternal peace, or instead use her power to slowly but surely manipulate and rule it with an iron fist, should she desire?

That question leads to her second unbelievable secret: she has already been dead once, before her name was Saki and before she inherited the terrible, awesome ability to tell Death to kindly go shove it some place wholly inappropriate.

Saki has lived not one lifetime, but two, wherein her third secret comes into play, and it is the most ludicrous of them all.

She can 'see' the future. She already knows how the story ends, however the Chaos Theory states that something as small as the flutter of a butterfly's wings can cause a typhoon halfway around the world.

Rather, she did know the story, until she became the butterfly and her very existence turned it on its head.

* * *

 **永**

* * *

It is not Saki who discovers her first secret, but her parents.

* * *

 **永**

* * *

Ayaka is happily flouncing back and forth from closet to daughter, exuberantly presenting tooth-achingly adorable outfit after adorable outfit to the four year old sitting obediently, surveying her with a calm, adult-like expression.

She easily ignores the sense of unease that this should bring; the pink-haired woman tells herself her daughter is simply developmentally ahead of other children her age, and it makes her incredibly proud as a mother.

She's always wanted to be a mother, and Saki's far exceeded her expectations as her daughter.

(That… that's a good thing, right? _Right?_ )

Ayaka is struck with memories of her pregnancy, which was entirely normal, so much so that she'd been performing trivial D-ranks up until her water broke. She remembers leisurely making her way to the hospital—with Botan pacing nervously beside her and urging her to hurry—somewhat fearful of the pain she was about to experience, but mostly excited that she was soon going to meet her dearest daughter.

She remembers with a clarity she deeply wishes she could forget how quickly everything went wrong. How, in a handful of seconds, she was pushing and her baby was alive, then suddenly Chiaki was telling her this needed to happen _now_ because her beloved child was _dying_.

Ayaka vividly recalls the icy-hot rushes of dread that nearly stilled her heart and the way the whole world seemed to stop spinning on its axis. This was the baby she and Botan had dreamed of for so long, and she was going to die? No, she wouldn't allow that to happen, not for a _second_.

Nothing in this lifetime will cause her to forget the moment Chiaki grimly informed her that their child was dead. She cannot forget the sight of her husband's face crumpling in grief and feeling like an utter failure as a mother before her daughter could even draw a single breath.

She remembers her total denial, her complete rejection of reality, how she strained despite Chiaki's pity-filled expression. _No, no,_ _ **no**_ _,_ she remembers. _This is_ _ **my**_ _child and the Shinigami will_ _ **not**_ _have her!_

It was as though a deity was listening and rewarded her fierce, undying will. Ayaka remembers heaving a final scream that might as well have been a battle cry with teeth bared like a furious goddess of war, and hearing her daughter's first miraculous cry.

Chiaki had been so surprised, so sure that the child had been dead moments before.

(Her shock has never really worn off, and the elder medic-nin has looked at Saki with odd eyes ever since.)

It was like a god had granted their beautiful daughter life, and Ayaka and Botan have never forgotten. Saki, named for her tuft of vibrant red-pink hair—even brighter than Ayaka's and darker than Botan's pastels—is their miracle child and they treat her like a fragile glass figurine that will shatter upon being dropped. (They make damn sure this never happens; they are qualified jōnin, after all.)

Ayaka took far less missions for a while, focusing almost all of her energy towards—admittedly, obsessively—caring for Saki. She remembers how frequently they hovered and fussed over their thankfully healthy and normal child. (While their intensity over Saki has lessened, they still like to keep a cautious eye on her.)

Everything had been so blessedly _normal_. Saki hit all of her milestones fairly normally, if anything a bit early, but nothing that would have labelled her a prodigy. Botan never stops proclaiming proudly how he's been able see it since day one, and Ayaka's forever refuting him with good-natured teasing. Yet underneath everything, all she wants is a happy, healthy child. She's never dreamed about having a truly special child, though she's ecstatic about it now.

(A small voice in the back of her mind asks, _Isn't Saki's life special_ _ **enough**_ _?_ )

They denied their daughter's living as strange until the first incident, the _only_ incident needed to change their minds.

Botan had just returned from an out-of-village mission, and as such his things were still sitting innocently on their workbench. Ayaka had taken her eyes off of Saki for what seemed like a short moment, to lovingly welcome her husband home, and next she knew she was frantically trying to calm her bloody, shrilly screaming daughter who had a shuriken embedded in her tiny thigh which was spurting blood at an alarming rate.

There had been so much blood in the span of _mere seconds_.

As best she could tell, Saki had activated one of the weapon scrolls—where her daughter even learned that will forever be beyond her, along with how a three year old could ever use their chakra with such precision—and they'd come shooting out like an angry storm of death.

Ayaka had immediately feared the worst—that Saki's femoral artery had been severely damaged, and Botan's horrified, guilty expression further cemented it. Luckily, he'd served for many years with a medic-nin comrade and had been able to staunch the bleeding to the best of his ability.

Both of them had never felt such self-loathing as they did that night; how could they ever have possibly allowed this to happen? What manner of horrible parents were they?

They'd wasted no time once pressure was on the wound, using a shunshin to take them as far as they could to the hospital, which tragically wasn't far enough.

Ayaka remembers Saki's ghostly white face, the heartbreaking, absolute fear in her eyes as she began to flutter in and out of consciousness, gripping her father as tightly as she could, blood continuing to flow down Botan's clothes as though to taunt them.

 _Your daughter is going to die, and it's your fault,_ the menacing hiss of her conscience whispered, and it was right.

Saki died before they could reach the hospital. Her eyes rolled back into her head and shut for what they thought was the last time, the flow of blood trickling to a stop. Her face was unnaturally pale and her lips were blue as she gave a final wheezing death rattle, the last of her breath leaving her a tiny, frail corpse.

Ayaka and Botan remember these details so horrifyingly clearly; they are veteran shinobi, they know what the dead look like better than anyone else. It had been the sight nightmares designed to swallow sanity were made of, and… they remember them because…

Saki came back. Their miracle child _came back_! But… their miracle child had been _dead_ ; that was a hard fact. Through the blurry tears and shaking hands, they'd _known_ she'd had no pulse and could draw no breath.

Still, they'd pressed on to the hospital and by the time they'd reached the entrance, Saki had looked up at them, startled and gasping desperately for air. She'd been fuzzy and bewildered, asking why they were so upset and why was there so much blood? Had she done a bad thing she couldn't remember? Did she have to go back to the black place again, because if she did, then she was really sorry and it wouldn't happen again, _please, please forgive me Mother and Father, I didn't mean to! I'll never do it again! Please don't make me go back there!_

It's very hard for Ayaka to remember what happened next; all she can recall are the lights and colours and sounds of the hospital melded into one unending loop of grief, relief, and utter disbelief.

Botan later told her that the medic-nin had easily removed the shuriken and patched Saki up without issue. He'd been immensely confused as to why they were both covered in so much blood because the wound appeared so minor. Saki had stopped answering any questions the doctor had for her, instead staring with a disturbed, unblinking gaze at the Yugakure symbol on the medic-nin's chest and on Botan's hitai-ate.

She didn't speak for a few days after that, and when she did, she seemed… _different_. She was still very quiet and polite, but something inside of her had been irreversibly altered.

" _Do I have to go to the black place again?"_

 _Again._

There is a lump in Ayaka's throat that she can't seem to swallow and a shiver she can't seem to shake off as she gently brushes Saki's long hair, having tightened and tied all the pretty ribbons adorning her super cute dress half-heartedly. She forces a larger smile across her face when Saki's deep red eyes dart questioningly to her own crimson ones in the mirror.

"Mother?" she asks quietly, childish face tranquil but curious.

"How about doing your hair like this today?" Ayaka chirps brightly—fake as can be, but a small child can hardly read a trained kunoichi—and momentarily scrunches Saki's hair into big buns on the side of her head as a preview.

Saki's face goes blank for a moment as she slowly blinks, as if asking herself some deep philosophical question, before demurely nodding, "It will be very pretty."

Ayaka grins broadly, genuinely this time, and begins brushing Saki's thick, luxurious hair again in preparation— _honestly_ , she and Botan have passed on a combination of their _best_ genes—humming an old melody in a lilting tone as she works.

(It's better to forget; she can keep living this life if she pretends she doesn't know.)

"I love everything you do, Mother," Saki says suddenly, much louder than she usually is. Her eyes are wide and there's a fierceness burning there like a great flame that Ayaka's never seen before.

It reminds her of herself. A comforting warmth blossoms in her chest and flows through her limbs like a surge of healing chakra. She wraps her arms around her daughter from behind, linking their hands together.

"And your father and I will always love you, no matter what," Ayaka replies, voice overflowing with joy, pressing a kiss to the top of the girl's head.

She misses the way Saki's ruby eyes darken, and the question that runs through them: _Are you sure?_

* * *

 **永**

* * *

Saki's second secret was one that had always been with her, even if she didn't fully know it for a time.

* * *

 **永**

* * *

Before Saki, there was a woman named Lucille Walters. Lucy was not notably special in any way; she was a thoroughly regular person with no unique, defining traits that others did not also possess or had the means to gain.

(It is important to note her utter normalcy.)

Although she came from a broken home, she had a family that loved her, despite being at odds with each other. She'd worked herself to the bone and paid her dues, and was finally on her way to becoming a published author. If that didn't pan out, being a teacher was in her future, and that was just fine with her. She was content with her life, with how far she'd come.

Sure, Lucy had her problems—anxiety always seemed to gnaw at her like millions of biting fire ants burrowed beneath her skin—but that was _okay_. Everyone having personal demons was something she'd accepted long ago.

Thus, it was quite unlucky that Lucy died.

It was really that simple; one moment, she was walking down the busy streets of Toronto, absentmindedly digging through her purse for her chapstick (an odd addiction), and the next it was black, an infinite, limitless void stretching in all directions.

She could speculate for eternity the number of ways she could've died—stroke, aneurysm, an ill-fated combination of her medications that she never knew about—but she would never know. It's both terribly unsettling and comforting, for she has no one thing to fear. Just the blackness, the nothingness.

That was it; black. Lucy had existed, and in a few short seconds, she was gone, motes of dust on the cosmic wind.

Except, she wasn't _completely_ gone. Grains of her sense of self, of her soul, still existed and floated through time and space and universes uncharted and unknown to man. What once was, was no longer, and what was impossible was now possible.

Defying all odds and against all logical reason, Lucy was reborn—with her memories intact, and perhaps it was not against logical reason, for humanity does not know what comes after death, and she was but one human. She cannot say that reincarnation is for certain the path we follow after death.

Yet Lucy's rebirth was not a smooth transition. Her memories were a chaotic mess of truth and fiction, and her infant body was unable to process and comprehend the sheer might behind her adult mind, so it shut down in order to preserve what was left of her.

So it came to pass that the woman known as Lucille Walters was no more… until the fragments that were Lucy began to recognize things that should not have been, could _not_ have possibly existed.

Hilariously and incredibly cliché, Lucy had once written stories regarding a series featuring a blonde boy with a demon in his belly about this exact sort of thing.

Honestly, it was the worst luck that she happened to end up the neighbour of a certain would-be psychopathic cultist.

Just _fabulous_. (NOPE.)

* * *

 **永**

* * *

The discovery of Saki's third secret was slower, but nevertheless inevitable like an oncoming train. It wasn't like she could get off the tracks even if she did hear the horn blaring, though.

* * *

 **永**

* * *

Saki has suspected from the beginning that she's not really a normal child. Her first memories consist of questions, like why does Father have seemingly natural pastel pink hair and why are those symbols so familiar? Why do words like chakra, jutsu, and shinobi feel like déjà vu?

Of course, she knows why now, but back then it had baffled her quite a bit. She's always been a little bit smarter than the average kid, and has gotten into considerably more trouble despite her parents hovering over her like protective twin guardians.

Sometimes Saki wishes she could turn back time; not to go back to the place where her name was once Lucy, no, but to the time before she realized what this massive, overdone cliché was. (It's never going to fully sink in that she's a literal, _living_ self-insert like all the horribly self-indulgent fanfics Lucy had written long ago. _UGH._ ) She'd been more innocent then, and maybe she never would've remembered if she hadn't been such an idiot.

She wants to sigh as she watches Mother bounce to and fro in her room, enthusiastically picking out horrid frilly cupcake outfits streaming with ribbons and flowers and all sorts of ridiculous ornaments. Is she trying to raise a doll or a kunoichi? Saki won't voice these thoughts, however, because it makes Mother happy, and even if she's not Saki's first mother, she is her mother (currently) regardless and she's determined not to make the woman that loves her so dearly sad again.

Saki has made Mother terribly, unbearably sad once before, when she didn't know why names like Naruto and Sasuke kept flitting through her head like annoying hummingbirds. She mostly ignored them back then, because what did they really mean? Could they really be that important if she couldn't even recall why? _Surely not._

Except… they were, and that's why she'd approached Father's weapon scroll with such curiosity, like a moth to flame, and oh, did she _ever_ burn.

Saki tries not to sigh again, wringing the fabric of her purple yukata in her too small hands. She doubts she'll ever get used to being a child for the second time. _'I want to be a kid again,' my ass!_ she scoffs internally while resisting the urge to smack her forehead, instead opting to roll her eyes when Ayaka's back is turned.

Looking back, though, it's as if she wasn't herself, but someone else watching from outside of her body, like a movie playing in a theatre (except this is real life and what a stupid, stupid kid she'd been).

It was like she couldn't control herself, with the scroll sitting there so tantalizingly. Saki remembers it was thick and white in the center with red trimming and it smelled like calligraphy practice even though she'd never done it in this lifetime. (Lucy had when she was nine, Saki finally did when she was four and her parents trusted her again.)

Pulling it open to see all the kanji and little squiggles of ink alive with chakra had been so _fascinating_. Saki wasn't sure how she knew to place her hand on the central, large kanji; to dip her metaphysical fingers into her core to pull and spin wisps of Yin and Yang until they were whole and she could stream it into her hand like the flowing of a gentle brook, then forcing it out with a burst and accidentally unleashing _hell_.

Nausea builds at the back of her throat as she remembers the rain of steel that came down on her a year ago. _You were_ _ **lucky**_ _,_ she reminds herself forcefully, fisting the skirt of her yukata so hard it might rip. To only be struck by one shuriken was luck. Unfortunately, to have it strike a vital spot was unlucky as hell.

Saki doesn't remember much of what happened after that, just that there was a lot of blood and that her parents had both cried a lot. Parts of her had gone away and parts of Lucy had woken up, and now she was some odd amalgamation of the two, or maybe she was just Lucy who had accepted that her name was Saki.

She's not at all a fan of existential crises these days, so she tries hard not to run in circles in her mind too often.

Dread always coats her like a second living skin when she vividly remembers the black place. She feels painful goosebumps rise all over her body and can't help but clench her teeth at the memory. It's like existing and not existing at the same time, and knowing instinctively that you aren't supposed to be _here_ , that you can't _stay_ here; you'll go one way or the other, but you're never supposed to _come back_. She wasn't supposed to go _back_ there; Lucy had already gone once, and now she's gone twice. Why couldn't it just leave her alone? If she keeps going back there and coming back, does that mean… does that mean she can't…?

Mother interrupts her before her mind can take her too far.

"Oh, how about this one?" Ayaka suggests with gusto, spinning on one foot to bring forth what's very possibly the frilliest dress in her devastating arsenal. Oh god, there are so many ribbons… _Why?!_ Saki wonders if she's pissed off someone Upstairs to be subjected to such torture.

If she's honest, probably yes, what with the whole 'reincarnation in the Narutoverse' shtick…

"Okay," Saki finds herself forced to agree, dipping her head modestly. She really can't help how excessively polite she is; Ayaka is Mother, but still doesn't feel quite like a mother should (because Mom already exists somewhere else, somewhere where she's mourning for a woman that died— _and why do I keep having these thoughts? What's wrong with me? Just_ _ **get over**_ _it_ ).

Saki allows Ayaka to dress her even though she's perfectly capable of doing it herself. She pulls her long red-pink—cerise? That sounds much better than 'red-pink because anime genetics couldn't decide'—out of the way so Mother, who seems kind of distracted, can finish tying all the ribbons.

It's kind of funny, actually. Lucy used to dye her hair much the same shade, named—later ironically and hilariously—'Devilish.' Too bad Saki has to remain in a chronically pink-haired state. _At least it's redder,_ she thinks, struggling to keep her expression neutral.

 _Reborn in the Narutoverse with permanently pink hair._ Yup, some sort of god definitely has it out for her. Well, Yukagure is relatively peaceful, if she needs to name a positive. Nothing bad happens here, right? Nah, it's totally some crappy side-village that no one ever remembers. She has years until the shit hits the fan, if her memory is to be trusted.

(…Fucking _Madara_. Why did the Uchiha have to be so crazy?)

Ayaka begins brushing her cringe-worthy hair with a strange look in her eyes. Is she upset? Has she upset her somehow? Saki can't help but meet her eyes with her own nervously, softly calling to her, "Mother?"

"How about doing your hair like this today?" Mother smiles widely, a little manically, kind of like the Joker, and holds her hair up in two huge buns on the sides of her head.

Good lord, that's _hideous_. She… she's serious, isn't she? Sigh, okay, she _has_ to pull this off.

Saki musters all of her willpower to keep her face as placid as possible. "It will be very pretty," spills from her lips and she wants to slap herself for how fake it sounds. _Domo arigatō, Mister Roboto!_

(Secret, secret, I've got a secret!)

The brilliant smile that Mother gives her in response makes guilt bubble in her chest like crawling magma, burning hot and sluggishly through her veins. Ayaka obviously loves Saki unconditionally, through all of her strangeness, and everything she does—silly and weird though it may be—is all for her benefit. She's never been unkind to Saki, not even once.

It hurts, but… it's time to let go of Mom, she knows. Mom won't be here for her through war and bloodshed, but Mother will, and would give her life if it meant Saki would live a minute longer. The least she can do is show her appreciation.

"I love everything you do, Mother!" Saki exclaims, hoping the tears that are behind her eyes stay there. _Goodbye, Mom. If this thing goes sideways—which it probably will—I'll meet you at the bar._

Ayaka appears exceptionally touched. She hugs Saki from behind and says, "Your father and I will always love you, no matter what."

Saki feels the kiss atop her head and can't help but wonder if they really will, if they knew all of her awful secrets—that she knows exactly what will befall this world, and that she has no idea how to stop it. Who would?

Her mother's sparkling, joy-filled eyes seal it.

Seriously, saving the world? First, she wants to start with saving herself and her family.

* * *

 **永**

* * *

Saki's brave mental declaration dies in a spontaneous combustion of fire and canon the very next hour.

* * *

 **永**

* * *

"May I go outside?" Saki asks her mother later that sunny afternoon. The sky is a stunning cerulean blue and crystal clear as far as the eye can see, not a wisp of cloud in sight. It's mid-spring, so the days are beginning to get ever warmer and all the trees are full with lovely bunches of leaves and blossoming flowers.

It would make for a very nice distraction from all the impending doom and horror stuck on repeat in her brain, Saki decides.

Mother's seamless strokes against a storage scroll stop, hesitating at her question. Mother's magenta eyebrows draw together, and almost imperceptibly, she purses her lips, wary at the idea of her daughter being alone outside.

It's frustrating to Saki, who attempts to understand her, but she wishes badly that her parents would stop treating her like an expensive, rare doll that must be locked away from the world at large. It's terribly hypocritical of them to excitedly chatter about what a talented kunoichi she'll be if they can hardly let her out of their immediate line of sight.

After what feels like forever, Mother nods, more to herself than to Saki, and grants her permission, "Yes. Stay within the block, I'll know if you don't." The woman gives her a sidelong glance that speaks of a mother's deeply unwanted anger.

Saki brings her feet together, back straight as a board in a salute. "I will," she promises, dipping her head forward slightly. "Thank you."

"Stay out of trouble," Mother warns dryly, then turns back to her fūinjutsu.

"I will!" Saki repeats as she moves swiftly down the hall, slipping into her sandals with unparalleled speed in case Ayaka changes her mind. She's out the door in another second, and has to raise her hand to her eyes for how radiant the sun is, vision momentarily flashing white-yellow.

Regardless, she darts away from the front door with a speed and elegance most young children don't possess, still erring on the side of caution should Mother come chasing after her.

(In reality, she stumbles a few times, thanks both in part to the numerous poofy skirts restricting her and the fact that her body is very different, despite living in it for years already. She refuses to acknowledge this, though there is a definite redness spreading across her cheeks.)

Only when Saki's down the stairs and at the end of the winding path that leads to the Shinomiya house does she slow to a walk, admiring Yugakure's beauty and the fresh, sweet scent of spring in the air. It's not like she's going that far anyway; mostly she wants to sit under the large, ancient chakra tree that no one wants to cut down on the edge of their property.

Before she can reach the large tree flourishing with thick, dark green leaves, Saki notices a peony bush and can't help but drop into a crouch to gently caress the smooth, flowering petals that are reminiscent of her father's hair. Unknowingly, a soft smile tugs at her lips as her fingers glide over the feathery petals.

 _Maybe,_ she thinks as her smile fades, _there is no such thing as 'canon.' Maybe there's just life, and none of those things will happen._ However, there are whispers of a third war looming, and Saki is too young to do anything about the monster Uchiha Obito will become, so she prays that there simply is no Obito, that maybe he doesn't exist here. It's insane to fully believe in his absolute existence when this is reality and not a fictional story.

(There are legends of the awe-inspiring men known as Senju Hashirama and Uchiha Madara, though.

Who do you believe?)

"Yes," Saki mutters in affirmation, hand falling away from the blossom to clench a resolute fist. She springs to her feet in victory, smugness radiating from her being. _There is no canon!_ she shouts confidently in her head, because doing so out loud would be asking for it.

That's when a boy comes shooting out of the bushes, nonchalant as anything.

Saki jumps when she sees him, startled by his sudden, random appearance. Well, damn, he moves even faster than she does; he must have shinobi parents as well. There's something oddly familiar about him, though, and Saki's first thought is, _Oh god no._ She's not sure who he's supposed to be, but something about him pings very loudly in Lucy's memories. Nobody important comes from Yugakure… right?

He has messy, metallic, silvery grey hair, despite his age—really, who is she to talk about weird hair—and vibrant purple eyes that contrast with his sun-kissed tan skin, the kind that comes from both winning the genetic lottery and constantly being outdoors.

Saki glances down at her pale, pasty hands with despair and self-consciously pulls them into her sleeves. She can't help but shrink in on herself, suddenly feeling very shy and very much like she should run away—partly due to the fact that she looks like a living wedding cake, and that this boy has a name she _should_ know, which makes him _important_.

But he just walks by her casually, heading towards the chakra tree, not registering her presence whatsoever. Or maybe he doesn't care, judging by the bored yet determined look on his face.

Saki blinks, then turns her head slowly to track his movement with her eyes. She's unsure if she should feel relieved or offended.

 _Name, name,_ _ **NAME**_ _,_ the girl chants as she racks her brain, beginning to timidly follow behind him. He looks like he could be related to Shiramine Hikari-san, who lives a couple houses down and was on Father's genin team. Saki can vaguely recall a regal woman with similarly coloured hair and eyes. She must have met Hikari-san before she went back to the black place.

"Um, h-hello… S-Shiramine-san?" Saki stammers quietly, finally finding her courage once they're beneath the tree's massive shadow.

The boy nearly jumps out of his skin and whirls around to face her, obviously surprised and very insulted.

Her heart drops. How awfully presumptuous; of course his name isn't—

"Don't call me that!" he snaps at her, seething, before he realizes what he's looking at. He gives an exaggerated, slow blink, and Saki thinks it might be because he believes she's a hallucination. It dawns on him shortly that she's real, and he gives her a disbelieving once over, his expression clearly saying it all: _What the hell are you?_ He looks at her like she's some sort of alien.

Saki knows she must be blushing terribly for how hot her face feels, and curses Mother's love of 'couture fashion.' Still, she perseveres because he didn't correct her, "I—I apologize, Shiramine-kun—"

This only makes it worse. "No!" he shouts, offended and aghast, glaring at her with frightening intensity. "Keigo is stupid," he informs her matter-of-factly, frowning like he's the imperious king of the world.

"Oh," is all that Saki can say. This is going to be hard; she's very polite. The immense awkwardness feels like it can be cut with a kunai.

The boy huffs and looks her top to bottom again with a raised eyebrow. "Freak," he adds for good measure, a spiteful smirk replacing his previous anger.

He's not wrong. Saki wants to blame her mother, she really does, but she's a good daughter, so she won't. "Yes," she agrees evenly, attempting to filter the shame out, looking him straight in the eye. His familiar eyes are creepy.

He seems to find it less upsetting and more confusing. "You… _aren't_ gonna run away to cry to your parents?" he asks, crossing his arms, moving closer—wow, he has no concept of personal space—to scrutinize her.

"No?" Saki replies immediately, unable to catch the condescension. The corners of her lips perk up subconsciously. It's going to take a lot more than 'freak' to send her crying back home. "Do most kids?" she can't help but ask against her manners. Freak is a pretty lame insult, but she won't tell him that.

Now the boy's intrigued. "Yeah," he says, throwing his arms behind his head and chuckling to himself like he's remembering something particularly fond.

Oh-kay, so Shiramine-kun is more or less a bully, or he's really bored. Either way, he seems mean. Insults, rude, Yugakure; they ring a bell, but it's not ringing loud enough. Outright asking for his name might be the rudeness she's trying to avoid…

Saki bows stiffly, hair ornaments brushing against her face, as she properly introduces herself, "It's nice to meet you! I'm Shinomiya Saki!"

He has a hair-trigger reaction. "Ugh, I told you to _quit it_ with the keigo, you pink-haired freak," he says sharply, and his anger's almost like a stinging slap. The boy turns from her with a heated scoff, sizing up the tree they're standing under.

Before Saki can respond, he backs up, then runs at the tree faster than her eyes can register. He's up the trunk in no time—and is he _tree-walking_? Just _how_ old is he?—gripping at the branches with practiced ease until he catapults himself upwards. He lands on a larger branch with agility akin to a cat. He falls into a crouch, grinning down at her with a great deal of arrogance.

Saki's rendered speechless, having risen from her bow to stand upright, head tilted up to watch him in awe. Is that natural talent or learned skill? She quickly clamps her mouth shut before he can see that her jaw's dropped. Now she _really_ wants to know his name and how old he is. How could she have forgotten someone like this?

"That was very impressive," she commends him honestly, feeling a rather decent amount of jealousy, coming to the base of the tree. "May I ask you a question, Shi—"

He glares at her with the rage of a thousand dying suns. If Shiramine-kun had laser vision, she's sure she'd be naught but a smear of ash decorating the ground.

"Ah… What would you prefer I call you?" Saki asks awkwardly, though rather determined not to look away from him like every cell in her body is telling her to do. (He does _not_ know how to emanate killing intent, just _no_.)

"Hidan—only Hidan!" the silver-haired boy tells her, except it's more like an order than anything else. "Call me… _Hidan-kun_ —"—he looks incredibly grossed out as he says it—"and I'll _kill_ you, seriously."

A circuit in Saki's brain shorts out. What…? _What_ did he just say? Hidan the cultist—Hidan as in _Hidan_ of the _Akatsuki?_ The organization that wants to rule the world, that will eventually attempt to put the entire Earth under a never-ending genjutsu? Hidan, as in the psychopath that routinely brutally murders as many people as painfully as he can for some god that may or may not exist? The guy that kills some man whose name she can't recall—but it had made Lucy cry every time she watched it.

 _That_ Hidan? And he's right _there_ —albeit, he's a little kid, but… _wow_.

Saki feels faint, and spots dance across her vision. So much for canon not existing.

Hidan mistakes the way her face pales in fear of his future self as fear of his current threat. "Ha! That's right!" he crows victoriously atop his perch, jabbing a finger down at her. "I'll do it, I will—hey! Hey!" Hidan cuts himself off when he notices the way Saki's vacantly staring through him. "HEY! Are you even listening to me?!" His cheeks are puffed out and red with anger.

The would-be-redhead (she wishes; being an Uzumaki would be _sweet_ —except not all redheads are Uzumaki, _damnit_ ) snaps out of her daze, focusing on the Hidan that's here now. He's… not really that scary, if she thinks about it, taking in deep, calming breaths. Yeah, he's not exhibiting any of his canonical craziness, and she can dismiss his threatening as a childish bully thing. He's even using awful insults that are in no way offensive. It's actually kind of funny, and his high-pitched bravado is both annoying and cute.

"Stop ignoring me, you spacey idiot!" Hidan shouts at her, scrambling for balance when he nearly overturns himself.

The only thing that stops her from bursting into laughter is the fact that she's got a partial adult's mind. She presses a fist to her mouth, pretending to cough to cover the small giggles trying to escape. This can't be the Hidan that joins Akatsuki. It's too hard to believe. He's so… _harmless_. There's a strange warmth in her chest.

(Maybe, possibly, if he's _that_ Hidan, she can change him…? It would be a start.)

Saki composes herself and gives him a little bow. "I apologize," she continues through his loud, dramatic groan over her mannerisms, "I didn't mean to ignore you."

Hidan glowers at her through suspicious, narrow eyes before flipping upwards to a higher branch, which worries Saki, who truly doesn't want to witness anyone die—so soon; she has no illusions about what's awaiting her down the path of a kunoichi. Here and now, though? She absolutely doesn't want to watch Hidan kill himself out of stupidity.

(…It would be so much easier if he died now, wouldn't it? But she's not a _monster._ He's a _child._ )

"Hidan—" Saki has to catch herself before adding an honourific, "be careful!" she calls up, frowning slightly. She can't exactly catch him if he falls or anything.

"You said I was impressive!" he yells back accusingly, surprisingly growly when all he's been is shrill.

They're virtually strangers and her opinion matters this much to him? Saki wonders if Hikari-san praises him at all. Although, when she thinks about it, Hidan's attitude probably hasn't gained him any friends, and he hasn't bothered addressing her by her name yet. She supposes only someone like her would venture to put up with someone like him.

 _Yes,_ Saki decides, _it will be for a good cause._ "I know I said that!" she yells back to him, disliking how she's forced to keep raising her voice the higher he climbs, "but, you might die if you fall!"

(Dying is horrible. It's worse when you keep coming back.)

Hidan stops, hanging by his arms, and looks down at her like she's told him something utterly stupid. "So what?" he says, settling himself on a higher, thinner, more precarious branch. "Everyone'll be dead someday."

Saki feels something dark clench in her chest. It feels like noxious poison creeping through her body, tainting everything it touches with its blackness. She swallows against the lump in her throat and numbly answers, "I—I, yes, you're right… but why…" She's not asking him why everyone dies; she's known the answer to that for a very long time. Why live so recklessly when you could live a little longer? What's the point? Does he want to die?

Why would anyone want to die…?

Hidan senses her discomfort and stretches out across the branch, violet eyes glittering with something unwholesome; like this, he reminds her of a predator. He practically exudes, _So, I finally got under your prissy skin?_ _ **Good**_ _._

"Everyone will be dead one day like they never _existed_ ," he continues, clearly pleased with the way her façade begins to crack. He thinks it's stemming from the thought of disappearing from the planet like you've never existed in the first place, that everything you've done never mattered the second death washes away all traces of _anything_ that bothers the formal pink-haired girl.

It's really not.

What Saki says next is not really of her own volition; Hidan's found the chink in her armour and he's peeling the plates back (until the raw, _dead_ skin is exposed). "To be dead one day like I never existed," she murmurs, paling further, trembling despite how warm the day is.

 _But I can't die, isn't that right? I… I will_ _ **always**_ _exist, won't I?_

"I don't want that," she utters much louder, fat tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. Saki pull her arms around herself and stares at the ground. The tears spill from her eyes in little rivers, falling from her face to splatter the dirt. She hardly appears proper like this, sniffling and crying.

"Too bad!" Hidan sing-songs cruelly with a warped smile—he's never really been _right_ , and it shows sometimes—all too pleased that he's getting the reaction he's wanted from the beginning. "That's what's gonna happen and there's _nothing_ you can do about it!"

There's laughter in his voice, and it makes a distant part of Saki think that maybe he _could_ be _that_ Hidan one day. For whatever reason—maybe because fate has a plan, maybe because the universe is entirely random, maybe because she arrogantly believes she can change him—it _enrages_ her.

Saki wipes her face, upset that he's gotten such a reaction out of her, and glares up at him coldly.

This only serves to entertain him more. "Oh, did I make Pinky-chan _mad_?" Hidan snorts derisively, his use of honourific's singular point to taunt.

" _Pinky-chan_?!" Saki repeats in disbelief and disgust. He is NOT getting away with that, kid or not. "Fuck you!" she yells at him before thinking about the consequences, hands clenched into white-knuckled fists, face twisted with fury.

Hidan's demeanour changes completely at her words. "Wait, what?" he calls down, all traces of cruelty vanishing, voice alight with curiosity, "what did you say?" While Hidan moves with the feline grace of a cat, he's still only four years old. He slides farther down the tree branch, as if that'll somehow get him closer, before that's a rather loud, sickening snap, then a blur of something vaguely child-sized falling—and Hidan is no longer in the tree but on the ground making all sorts of ungodly noises.

"Oh shit!" Saki exclaims breathlessly and runs to his side. There's not really any blood beyond superficial scrapes and cuts, but Hidan's left arm looks very _wrong_. She cringes at the sight, unable to keep a neutral expression. It's _gross_. She has no idea how to react beyond a generic, worried, "Does it hurt?"

Hidan stops screeching to pin her with the most furious glare she's seen from him yet. "What do you think, genius?" he asks sarcastically, pointedly gesturing to where his arm is very obviously broken. At least he's not screaming anymore.

Saki sighs and allows herself the facepalm she's been holding back all day. "I didn't mean it like—never mind, I'll go get my mother."

At the mention of an adult, Hidan freezes and pales, seemingly no longer in pain. Is that… is that fear she's seeing? "No," he says in a higher pitch, like it was all just a joke. The boy scrambles to his feet, attempting to right his arm with a pained grimace. "I'm okay," he reiterates when Saki raises her eyebrows, ruby eyes flitting back and forth between his nightmare-inducing forced smile and his arm.

"Saki?" she hears her mother call out in the distance, concern tinting her voice.

Hidan snarls and smears his hand down his face in defeat. He's probably not fast enough to outrun Ayaka, who's likely to tell Botan, who will most definitely tell Hikari-san, who is likely the source of Hidan's… discomfort. "This is _your_ fault, Pinky-chan," he spits out, eyes burning like coals.

"I warned you you would fall!" Saki refutes him, though she's fairly certain she's never going to win an argument with Hidan.

" _No_ , you said I would die if I fell," he corrects her with an unimpressed tone, before remembering that she's done him another great wrong. "You said those things on purpose, didn't you? You were trying to distract me!"

"What things?" Saki asks, genuinely confused. No, she'd gotten angry like a little brat and had tried to win an unwinnable fight in an immature way.

Then it dawns on her.

"Oh," she mutters in embarrassment, "you mean when I said…" She can't bring herself to repeat the words. "Those… those are vulgar words, don't repeat them."

"Why do you know so many big words?" Hidan scrunches his face up, eyeing her like she's something nasty.

Right, she is talking to a four year old (or, she thinks he's four; in all likelihood they're the same age, give or take some months). "Vulgar means rude or bad," she explains to him.

Hidan's face lights up like Christmas has come early, and Saki realizes she's done a Bad Thing. Oh, oh no, is _she_ the catalyst that sparks Hidan's love affair with cursing?!

"Do you know any more?" he asks, choking back evil laughter. The pure joy in his eyes is unmistakable.

 _I am,_ Saki despairs in her mind. He's _Hidan_ , though, she thinks. He would've learned about cussing eventually, anyway. It kind of works to assuage her guilt, but she knows this is not good and it will get back to Mother. _Oh dear._

Speaking of said woman, Ayaka materializes beside them in a puff of smoke, causing Saki to stand to attention and Hidan to sigh and try to light the ground on fire with his mind.

"I thought I heard yelling—Hidan-kun, are you alright?" Mother asks in alarm as soon as she sees the miniature devil's arm.

 _She called him Hidan-kun,_ Saki thinks in fascinated horror. How, exactly, does Hidan get by being so disrespectful?

The silver-haired boy looks up at Ayaka with a totally blank face, to the point that it's insanely creepy. His eyes dart to Saki for a second, and all she can think is, _Don't you dare, you little—!_

"It's Saki's fault!"

* * *

 **永**

* * *

It turns out Hikari-san is worth Hidan's fear, for she's the most beautiful and elegant woman Saki's ever laid eyes on, and just as stern to boot. Her perfectly coiffed lilac hair glimmers in the light, her royal purple eyes shine of horrors untold, and her lovely, hardened face speaks of all the bullshit she won't take.

Saki is convinced she's the perfect kunoichi.

"Please inform me why my son knows such crass language," her voice cuts like steel through the awkward atmosphere. Mother is dumbstruck by the story apparently, and when Hikari-san tilts her head a fraction, Father looks torn between amusement and embarrassment.

Saki obediently answers all of their questions while Hidan stands there, still as a statue and as silent as the grave, but his unwavering glare says it all.

 _Fuck you._

* * *

 **永**

* * *

It is therefore surprising when Hidan comes over the next day. Saki stares at him, completely uncomprehending, before her manners kick in and she invites him inside. Morbid fascination is a seductive, terrible thing.

What does he possibly want after that? He can't actually consider the two of them… _friends_?

"So, listen," he whispers into her ear before they're even out of the front foyer, "I was thinking—"

"Hello, Hidan-kun!" Mother appears out of thin air to greet him. She sounds a little icy to Saki, but it doesn't seem like Hidan notices.

There's a pronounced facial twitch and his shoulders slump, but Hidan replies all the same, much to Saki's surprise. "Auntie… Ayaka," he grits out, and it really is even more surprising he can't set things on fire with his mind. (Yet. Now that's a frightening thought.)

"How's your arm feeling today? Better?" she asks in a somewhat challenging tone, cool red eyes coming to rest on said arm. _That's now in a sling,_ Saki notes, but she's more interested in observing Hidan converse with an adult that's not going to put up with his disrespect, although Ayaka's going rather hard on a four year old.

"It's fine," Hidan answers her in as few words as he can use coherently, either unaffected or uncaring about Mother's chilly attitude. Still, it's… mean, so Saki shifts her eyes just enough so Mother can see.

Ayaka looks at her for a few moments, having some internal conflict, before asking Hidan another question, "Aren't you supposed to be at the hospital with your mother?"

"It's boring," Hidan mutters and glares at the floor, face twisting into a sour pout. Saki supposes she doesn't blame him when he seems to spend all of his free time outside; also, what good can come of a bored mini-Hidan allowed to run wild in a hospital?

Hidan gladly answers this silent question. Before Mother can say anything else, he brightens all at once and smugly adds, "Oh yeah, and Granny Chiaki said she'd kill me if I tried giving one more patient a heart attack." He grins like the cat that ate the canary, eyes positively sparkling with evil glee.

Well, not _evil_ evil like she keeps expecting to see from Hidan, but about as evil as a cute four year old can look… which, when considering the destructive capabilities of children, is actually pretty damn evil.

"I see," Mother replies carefully, lips tightening into an even line across her face. It's difficult to tell if she's uncomfortable with Hidan or disguising amusement over his actions. Mother is rather cool towards Chiaki-san and Chiaki-san returns it in full, Saki knows, and laments that their point of contention is over herself.

"Saki? Did you hear me?" Ayaka asks, and her head snaps up, hair flipping over her shoulders.

 _Maybe I do internal monologue too much._

"I apologize, Mother," Saki bows her head as she always does—and definitely hears Hidan snerk at her extreme formality.

Ayaka pretends she doesn't hear him—perhaps a favour for making Chiaki-san's day troublesome—and repeats herself, "Do you want to play with Hidan-kun today?" Oh god, there's so much judgement in the question that it's both awful and hilarious. It doesn't help that she's reverted back to her cutesy 'I love my precious dolly' tone.

Hidan's copying what she did yesterday, except he's bad at it and it's super obvious he's laughing behind his hand.

Saki looks between her mother and her new "friend," feeling vaguely annoyed, but deeply curious. She has a feeling she knows what Hidan wants, but it would be interesting if it's something else.

(Do you even know what it means to be his friend? They say curiosity killed the cat.)

"Yes," she decides, innocently and unknowingly changing the course of her entire long, long life.

"Let's go." Hidan grabs her hand roughly and drags her out the front door as she struggles to keep up with him. Dear lord, is he attempting a half-shunshin or something?

There's suddenly killing intent in the air, so much that Saki nearly forgets how to breathe while Hidan's merely intrigued by it. "I'll be watching," Mother says, crimson eyes glowing a devilish red in their sockets, her hair lazily churning around her on a non-existent breeze. Are those _fangs_ in her mouth? "Hidan-kun, if you do something… untoward… towards my daughter, I'll…"

She lets the threat hang in the air like some kind of psycho yandere. Saki's shocked, to say the least. Really, she didn't think the woman had it in her. She's not sure whether she's more frightened or impressed.

This little act seems to endear her to Hidan. "Auntie, can you teach me how to do that?" he asks without reservation.

Ayaka drops the genjutsu, eyes and hair reverting to normal, her usual kind smile back in place. "Do what?" She raises a thin, magenta eyebrow.

Hidan's excited face falls and he grunts a non-verbal complaint and continues to drag Saki out the door.

"Have fun!" Mother cheerfully calls after them.

"That was… odd?" is all Saki can think to say as they begin to run down the stone path away from her house.

"Whatever," Hidan huffs, before pulling her into the high shrubs, ignoring her exclamations of pain as all of her well-cared for hair is tangled into every stick it can find.

Saki comes to the conclusion that she really doesn't like the silver-haired boy very much. "So what do you want?" she grumbles in annoyance, beginning to individually unravel all the strands of cerise that are currently decorating the inside of the bushes like some garish tinsel.

"What, you thought I wasn't serious yesterday?" Hidan replies, of course offended. "Do you know any more 'vulgar' words or not?" he asks seriously, using air-quotes of all things.

Goddamnit, it's not something else more interesting. "Fuck," Saki gives up, dropping her head to her knees, hair still tangled in the surrounding shrubbery.

"I said new words!"

* * *

 **永**

* * *

 _Saki sits in the dark, in absolute silence, staring blankly at nothing in particular. Steam is still rising from the cup in front of her._

 _Hidan doesn't bother quieting his footsteps as he approaches her from the left, after all, what does it matter anymore? He's splattered with blood, and leaves bloody footprints in his wake. He drags his bloodied scythe alongside him, the grating noise no doubt ominous and designed to incite fear._

 _But Saki's never been afraid of him. Has she been waiting, seriously? Brave, stupid bitch._

 _She finally turns to face him, and he can see nothingness in those fucking aggravating eyes of hers. She looks like she's already dead._

" _I wish I could understand," she admits, never breaking eye-contact. Is that regret he hears in her smooth voice?_

 _Bullshit, you never tried to understand, you never wanted to understand, you traitorous whore, Hidan wants to reply, to unleash a tirade of all the shit she needs to hear, but he doesn't. He only stares back at her, for once silent and stone-faced. She doesn't deserve anything from him. Not anymore._

 _Hidan raises the scythe in a single fluid movement, then speaks coldly one last time, "You don't." Blood colours the carpet where it trickles steadily from the blades._

 _The scythe falls in a wide arc, and more blood stains the floor._

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 **A/N:** I am the parentheses demon! Anyway, yeah, I'm gonna work on trying to cut my usage down.

I hope this chapter wasn't disappointing; everyone has a beginning. Twenty year old Hidan and Saki are vastly different than four year old Hidan and Saki. Character growth/progression—or is it deterioration in this case?—aw yeah.

Pinky-chan was all jiemae's idea, ahaha.

Why are they a family of pink-haired people? Because I can, and because Saki's physical design was partially based on the anime version of Elfen Lied's Lucy (whose name I did give to my OC).

This chapter was way, way longer than I ever intended. Oops? I would love to hear your thoughts on it after all the hard work and many hours I spent researching and deconstructing Hidan. Reviews fuel my inspiration like nobody's business and increase my update speed.

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 **Fic recommendation:** Anomaly by **CompYES** , Will of Fire by **jiemae** , and Ashes 灰 by **Until The Bitter Ending**.

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 **Future chapter teaser** (I don't know if this'll be the next chapter, but it's totally dominating my mind) **:**

 _It's like watching a glass fall: it happens in slow motion, and you can see every tiny detail as it falls. You know you're trying your damnedest to catch it, but you also know you're going to fail. It's going to fall and it's going to shatter everywhere, spectacularly._

" _Hidan, just let it go, it's—"_

" _Fuck you, old man!" Hidan shouts over the roar of the crowd, throwing his hands up to flip double birds. (Saki's not even sure if that's a thing.)_

 _It's as if God Himself hates them and guides Hidan's idiotic words straight into the missing-nin's ears. In some sick twist of fate, he_ _ **hears**_ _them through the tightly packed throngs of mindless shoppers._

 _Saki watches on in horror as Kakuzu turns to stare down Hidan._

" _Hidan," Saki says in alarm, "I think you need to let it go."_

" _No, he's an asshole! HEY! FUCK YOU!" Hidan furiously reiterates, not backing down nor dropping his hands._

 _Kakuzu's eerie red and green eyes narrow, and Saki gets the impression that he is severely unimpressed with her teammate's choice of words._

" _We're so screwed," is all she can manage to get out._

 _They are ten years and one non-immortal too early for this encounter._


End file.
